Miss Mission Impossible,
aren't you tired of this?
Miss Mission Impossible,
you take on the threats with a kiss.

You ****** pain to be on you side;
You graze on the blade until you bleed.
Your sweat, and blood, and tears...
Now dry
Miss Mission Impossible...
You tried.

I see my light going on and going off
on and off
on and off
flickering
flickering, I see them
flickering
the light is fleeting
limited
limited the light may have been
until I decided
to be limitless

599

There is a pain—so utter—
It swallows substance up—
Then covers the Abyss with Trance—
So Memory can step
Around—across—upon it—
As one within a Swoon—
Goes safely—where an open eye—
Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.

my heart and my hand goes together
my brain is wired to censor
my brain is wired to simplify
what i have in my hand, however,
is to amplify --
amplify who i am...
the 'who' i do not truly understand.
myself.
the 'who' i do not completely believe,
the self i cannot trust.

Have I any right to envy?
I pushed the man away.
Time passed and with another he sway
Yet part of me wished him to stay.

Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.
Cold as snow breath, it tamps the womb

Where the yew trees blow like hydras,
The tree of life and the tree of life

Unloosing their moons, month after month, to no purpose.
The blood flood is the flood of love,

The absolute sacrifice.
It means: no more idols but me,

Me and you.
So, in their sulfur loveliness, in their smiles

These mannequins lean tonight
In Munich, morgue between Paris and Rome,

Naked and bald in their furs,
Orange lollies on silver sticks,

Intolerable, without mind.
The snow drops its pieces of darkness,

Nobody's about. In the hotels
Hands will be opening doors and setting

Down shoes for a polish of carbon
Into which broad toes will go tomorrow.

O the domesticity of these windows,
The baby lace, the green-leaved confectionery,

The thick Germans slumbering in their bottomless Stolz.
And the black phones on hooks

Glittering
Glittering and digesting

Voicelessness. The snow has no voice.

28 January 1963

I find
feathers so beautiful
I guess
it's because they are so light
That sense of lightness
Makes them so pretty
That sense of lightness...
**I envy